


A Shadow’s Kiss

by Cassianpeia



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 14:49:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16328060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassianpeia/pseuds/Cassianpeia
Summary: A collection of Elriel one shots and drabbles that have been requested on my tumblr. Both set in the acotar world and in AUs. I hope you enjoy these little stories about the shadowsinger and the fawn.





	1. You’re jealous, aren’t you?

When Azriel woke up this morning, the first thing that struck him was that the day was particularly beautiful. Birds were singing, the sun was shining, and there was little to no wind at all. The first thing he'd decided to do was find Elain. Due to the rainy weather, she hadn't been able to tend to her garden all week. The sun would've been a pleasant surprise for her, and Azriel was keen to keep her company while she spent the day outside.

It didn't take him long to find Elain, who was already outside, and already in someone else's company.

Someone being Lucien.

This little bump in the road, so to speak, is how he finds himself sitting on one of the benches in the garden, pretending to work on some report for Rhys while really keeping his eye trained on the pair tending the garden.

Feyre has reassured him time and time again that Lucien can be trusted. _He only wants to get to know her, Az. If I thought she was in any danger, he'd be banned from the house. You know that._ And he does. Trust isn't really the issue here - not that he'd ever admit that easily. But that doesn't mean he's not going to keep a watchful eye on the both of them. 

Elain wears one of the simple dresses she keeps for gardening; it's loose, and a light pink that matches the flush of her cheeks. Her gloves are already caked with mud - a complete juxtaposition to the elegant crown braid she's pulled her hair into. Azriel can feel his lips quirk and his muscles relaxing, though he freezes when he sees Lucien pick up a small flower and push its stem through her braid. Elain smiles, meets Lucien's gaze. Azriel's knuckles are white thanks to his too-tight grip on the sheets of paper in his hand. He forces himself to relax.

Lucien isn't doing anything wrong. All he wants to do is connect with his mate - it's only natural. He's been respectful and patient and Feyre trusts him completely with Elain. So that should be enough.

It isn't. 

Elain's laugh startles him from his thoughts - or brooding, as Cassian would say - and Azriel looks over just in time to see Lucien wiping a speck of mud from her cheek with his thumb. Azriel's jaw clenches immediately and he reverts his gaze back down to the report in front of him. He looks away because he realises that Lucien's gentle nature is a lot more difficult to deal with than if he were any sort of threat. If he was a danger to Elain, Azriel would have a solid reason for disliking them spending time together. But Lucien isn't a danger at all. The only danger here is that Lucien could possibly take Elain away from Azriel. Not that Elain was his to begin with. He reminds himself that he has no claim. She is her own person. If she chooses to be with Lucien, then so be it. 

Just as long as she is happy.

But then she laughs again and Azriel can feel his shoulders tense. It's almost like a knife to the gut - though that's probably a little dramatic. He wishes it was him that was making her laugh. Not Lucien. But how could Elain know that? It's not as if he's made his feelings known.

He hasn't told her that her company calms him. That Azriel, who has always found little comfort in life in general, even with Rhys and Cassian, feels fully at peace when Elain is around. That his shadows seem to take a step backwards. That he doesn't want to disappear. That he forgets about Mor. That her smile brightens his day and that her laugh is music to his ears. That it feels right to have her hand on his arm. That he would plant a thousand, a hundred thousand flowers just to make her happy.

A shadow looms over him, suspiciously in the form of an Illyrian warrior. To no surprise, Azriel looks behind him and finds Cassian standing with his arms crossed and a smirk gracing his lips. Azriel scowls and turns back in his seat. His eyes automatically find Elain again. It's like a habit he can't break. 

There's a few moments of silence before Cassian speaks, and as soon as he does Azriel wants to shove his face into the dirt. Twice, for good measure.

"You're jealous, aren't you?" 

"I'm just making sure she's okay, Cassian. Like I'm supposed to." 

Cassian moves to sit next to Azriel, one foot balanced on his knee and his arms along the back of the bench. Lucien places a gentle hand on her back, briefly, for less than a second, but Azriel still has to force his posture to remain relaxed and his jaw to remain unclenched. Of course, Cassian reads him like an open book. 

"You should just tell her."

"I don't follow."

"Az, you need to tell her. What's the worst that could happen? Rejection? Elain enjoys your company, too. She won't push you away. And haven't you noticed that her laugh is a little forced?" 

Azriel locks his teeth together to stop himself from making some spiteful retort about Cassian's situation with Nesta. Cassian only wants the best for Azriel, and he's usually right. 

"I agree. So does Feyre." 

When Rhysand arrived, Azriel doesn't know. He's developed a sneaky habit of being able to avoid Azriel's detection when he wants to. It's bothersome, really. Azriel opens his mouth to retort, but stops when Elain's gaze meets his.

She smiles; her cheeks dimple and the corners of her eyes crinkle, all while her hand delicately waves. All Azriel can do is wave back, his lips automatically stretching to match the smile of her own. He relaxes almost immediately, and can't help but feel a tiny bit smug at Lucien's slightly furrowed brow. 

He expects some sort of 'I told you so' remark from Cassian, or a small laugh from Rhys, but when he looks over his shoulder Rhys has gone, and it isn't long before Cassian stands too. Cassian places a hand on his shoulder and grins before he leaves. Azriel only understands when a soft voices catches his attention. 

"What are you reading?" 

He turns back in his seat, smiling when he sees Elain walking towards him and notices the mud on her nose and the flush across her cheeks. 

"Nothing important. Care for a walk?"


	2. Breakfast in Bed

The door swings open and Elain, tray in hand, strides into the room - only to climb into a half-asleep Azriel's lap. She remembers a time when it would have taken her tens of minutes to debate whether entering his room was appropriate. She would walk past the door, over and over again, treading a path into the blue carpet and biting her lip until it was red and sore. Then she'd knock, walk in, and debate walking straight out again as soon as she realised he was shirtless.

Now, Elain has no trouble bursting into his room and clambering over him to get his attention - though his shirtless state still very much flusters her. She hopes he doesn't notice. He probably does.

Azriel shifts slightly so that he sits up, back against the headboard, and glances down at the tray in hand. Elain swells with pride when she notices the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips - though his smile stops when he notices the cupcake hidden amongst the toast and meat and orange juice. Elain would even suggest he looks nervous. This just makes Elain smile even wider.

"That's not exactly the healthiest breakfast in bed I've ever seen." Azriel mutters, moving his hands to ghost over Elain's knees. 

"I know, but it's a new recipe and I'd really like you to try it - I promise it's nice." She smiles sweetly, overly so, and flutters her eyelashes. There's flour on her nose and forehead - it's a lethal combination. Even though Azriel is completely aware of her tactics, he can already feel himself slowly giving in. It _does_ look nice. But so did the last new recipe, and that hadn't exactly ended well. "Please? It's even got blue frosting - look." She holds up the cupcake and waves it in front of his face, though he keeps his focus entirely on Elain. Which she notices. Her arm drops at the same time as a pout forms on her lips. 

"Elain-"

"No - it's fine. I'll just go ask Cassian or Feyre... or maybe even Lucien will be a dear and try it-"

Before she can can remove herself from his lap Azriel takes the cupcake from her delicate, flour covered fingers and takes a large bite. He refuses to break eye contact with Elain who is looking far too smug for her own good, and her smirk looks far too much like Cassian's. She's been spending too much time with him. 

"Just so we're clear," he begins, wiping crumbs from the corner of his lips with his thumb. "I just really wanted to try the cake. There's no other reason. Are we clear? This should definitely be clear." The smirk just grows and Azriel knows that she doesn't believe him. Elain chose Azriel, and he respects their friendship completely - which Elain is incredibly grateful for - but she still knows mentioning Lucien is an extremely effective way to motivate Azriel. Works like a charm. 

"Of course - which reminds me, I'm meant to be heading down into the town to help him shop for Vassa's birthday." 

"Just one tip." Azriel's free hand moves along her thigh to rest lightly on her hip, his fingers running in random patterns along the fabric of her dress. Elain raises an eyebrow, crosses her arms. He's trying to distract her, and she knows it, but she supposes she'll give him of day. "The blue frosting might taste better if..." Azriel places the cupcake on the counter beside his bed before swiping a little of the frosting off with his finger. Elain watches silently as Azriel moves his frosting covered finger across her bottom lip, forgetting completely about the hand that is slowly working its way around her waist. In return, Azriel watches, just as fascinated, as her lips part and hot air caresses her fingertips.

He doesn't think he'll ever get used to this, being with her.

Correction: he _knows_ he won't.

And Elain feels the exact same way.

A small squeal slips from her lips as Azriel abruptly flips the two of them over, using his grip on her waist, so that he hovers over her. Elain feels a flush bloom on her cheeks at the proximity, at the way Azriel looks at her: like she's the most wonderful things he's ever seen. 

Then his lips are on hers and Elain feels the world melt away. All Azriel can think of, while her hands run through his hair and her chest brushes against his, is the way the frosting truly does taste better when dusted across her lips.


	3. I can’t believe you dragged me into this.

"I can't believe you dragged me into this!"

Elain's shriek is barely heard over the roaring wind. Her head is buried into Azriel's chest, and her fingers grip the leathers on his shoulders to the point of turning white. She feels Azriel's laugh, a slight rumble deep in his chest, rather than hears it. But it still has the same effect.

Elain hadn't flown in his arms for a long time, being far more content on the solid, unmoving ground. But he'd wanted to show her something, and the complete joy in his smile and the way his eyes crinkled when she'd said yes made her momentarily forget that flying was involved.

Then they'd taken off. 

And Elain had immediately latched onto Azriel as if her life depended on it.

She knows he won't drop her. There isn't a safe place she could be than in Azriel's arms, but that doesn't mean she's going to feel entirely secure - especially when her clammy hands feel slippery against his shoulders and the wind is whipping through her hair.

Soon after Azriel laughs, Elain feels the wind begin to settle and the noise around her ears quietens. It takes a moment, but she hazards a quick look up at his face. There's a small smirk on his lips. Elain doesn't know whether she wants to kiss or slap it away. 

At the moment, she's leaning more towards slap.

"I am completely aware that there have been take offs much gentler than that." She scolds, fingers loosening their hold when she finally grows used to the sensation of Azriel gliding through the air. 

His eyes dart down to hers, twinkling in the sunlight. "I know, but sometimes getting a rise out of you is too tempting to resist." 

The mischievous side of Azriel had been a pleasant surprise. Of course, she knew he wouldn't have been completely serious all the time; the quick grins and retorts he used around Rhys and Cassian were proof enough, but he'd always been so soft and gentle with her. The change had been slow. In fact, it had been the headache tonic, all those years ago, that kickstarted the change in their relationship. Soft gazes became accompanied by teasing glances, kind smiles mixed with crooked grins. Each one had made her heart race more, and as much as Elain had loved his gentler side, the mischievous was what truly left her wanting.

Just not when it is aimed at her, miles in the air.

"You said you wanted to show me something." Elain huffs in response, her fingers now gently running across skin of his neck. It's tempting to touch his wings, tease and taunt him like she has done before - but it's not exactly the best time to make him lose his focus, so she refrains. "I'd quite like to see it now." 

"All you have to do is look down - can you manage?" He's teasing again, but the slight tone of concern is what makes her nod and run her fingers across his jaw. 

Elain takes a moment, managed a deep breath, before twisting in his arms to look below her. They're not quite as high as she thought they were, which is a relief, and the sight below is something to behold. It almost takes the breath out of her lungs. 

Azriel hovers over a large field, or rather a large garden. The flower arrangement is beautiful, made of Elains favourite colours: pinks and yellows and soft oranges. 

"Az," She whispers. "It's wonderful..."

"Take a closer look." Is his only reply. 

Elain hums, acknowledging his request, before scanning the garden again. 

"I don't..." and then she pauses, one of her hands coming to her lips. Amongst the pinks and oranges, the yellows are clumped together - something Elain hadn't noticed before. But the clumps aren't randomly placed, they're precise, purely set out to read:

' _Marry me?'_

When Elain finally manages to break her gaze from the scenery below, it feels as though all of the breath in her lungs has disappeared, leaving tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat. Azriel presses a soft, lingering kiss to her temple, and whispers against her skin when he speaks.

"I'm going to need answer before we land, you know." His tone is a mixture of smugness, and slight insecurity, but he must know, must, that Elain isn't going to refuse. 

"Yes, yes," she grins, the hand at the back of his neck gripping gently. "Just take us down. We need to celebrate properly."

His lips twist back into their previous smirk as he quickly shoots back towards the ground, and Elain decides that this time, she definitely wants to kiss it away.


	4. Come here + You’re trembling

It's Elain's birthday, but she feels a little suffocated.

It's not that she doesn't appreciate the effort that her friends put in - especially Feyre, who managed to decorate the ceiling like it was actually the night sky, and used flower arrangements that were simply perfect - but for someone who hasn't celebrated her birthday properly in quite some time, it's all a little too much.

When she was younger, and their mother was still alive, and they still had plenty of money to their name, Elain remembers having large parties for each birthday. She had always been a social butterfly, eager to please and make friends, so parties were generally full to the brim of excitable children. But then everything went to pot, and large celebrations turned into a small, stale cake with a single already half-burnt candle and a new pair of second-hand boots.

She cringes at the thought of how ungrateful she was. Even when Feyre sacrificed buying new paints, new clothes for herself, so that Elain and Nesta could have what they asked for, she still begged and pleaded for more. 

After celebrating with so little, after becoming used to such poverty, grand events like this don't feel right. 

She enjoyed the first part of the evening; the grand reveal took her breath away, and so did seeing all of their friends, family, colleagues that attended. And seeing Azriel's face when she'd entered, wearing the outfit he'd bought her - a slightly cropped black spaghetti top and a light grey tulle skirt that she honestly wasn't surprised suited her so well considering Mor had let slip that Azriel had gone to her with fashion advice - is definitely a highlight of her night.

But saying thank you to everyone over and over again for coming became too much, which is why Elain now stands by one of the pillars, practically hiding from the guests, with a glass of champagne in hand. 

Her eyes immediately find Azriel in the crowd on the dance floor. He's abandoned his suit jacket, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he dances the YMCA with Cassian and Rhys. A snort slips free as she sees Cassian accidentally whack Rhys over the back of the head, and she giggles into her drink when the three of them somehow manage to mess up the routine entirely. For people who take extreme pride in their athletic abilities, their coordination seems to have flown out of the window with no hope of returning for the evening.

Nesta is sat at the bar with Amren. Elain has been especially worried about Nesta this evening, who had been a complete wreck - and that is putting it lightly - when she last saw her. But the last several months working with Cassian, helping his self defence business and even learning self defence herself, has done her the world of good. Elain can see her smirking into her glass, listening intently as Amren speaks, and Elain thinks that seeing Nesta almost whole again is possibly the best birthday present she could ask for.

Well, watching the three boys attempt _Single Ladies_ is definitely a close second.

She soon finds Feyre and Mor, who walk together, gossiping while looking around the room, almost as if they're searching for someone.

Then it occurs that's it's _her_ they're looking for, and Elain isn't prepared for the rush of guilt that hits her straight in the gut. But she isn't in the mood for talking right now, or explaining why she disappeared, so she slips out onto the balcony and heads straight for the railing. 

The quiet welcomes her like an old friend. Music still faintly slips between the open doors, but Elain no longer feels overwhelmed. The marble railing of the balcony is cool to touch, and only reminds her of how expensive the whole night must be. Rhys may be a successful business man, but renting out an old tow house ( _town house? Who am I kidding? It's more like a palace._ ) for the evening would have taken a substantial chunk out of his bank account. 

Not that he'd care. Rhys would do anything for the people he considered family. And that's what they all were, so why was she hiding from them all.

Elain lets a sigh slip from her lips and fiddles with her skirt, too distracted to notice that someone has stepped out onto the balcony with her.

"You're missing the party." 

She should be used to Azriel's quiet steps by now, but it still takes her by surprise every now and then. Elain sends him an irritated look over her shoulder, which is returned with a soft smile of his own, before looking back over the city.

"I just needed a breather. Your rendition of _Single Ladies_ was getting me all hot and bothered." 

A low chuckle is his response. It wraps around her like a warm blanket, and Elain ducks her head slightly as she smiles. Azriel moves next to her, still leaving a few inches of breathing space, but close enough that Elain can smell the subtle cologne he wears - one she bought him, no less - and feel the warmth radiating of him. 

"I could be, should be out there dancing," Elain almost whispers after a few moments of silence. "Showing Feyre how much I appreciate her work - everyone's work. But instead I'm out here hiding because it's too much, because I'm being ungrateful." 

Her hand is soon encompassed by something warm. Elain still doesn't meet his gaze.

"You're not ungrateful, you're overwhelmed. There's a big difference, Elain. Feyre will understand, everyone will."

"I enjoyed it at the beginning."

"I know, you don't have to make excuses."

Elain sighs again, and finally looks up at Azriel, who is still kindly smiling down at her. How did she get so lucky? 

They stay in silence for a while, until a new song plays, enjoying the peace and the sight before them - though Elain spends more time looking at Azriel, the beautiful scars on his hands, the waves of his dark hair, than at the skyline. 

"Come here." Azriel breaks her from her reverie by tugging on her hand, pulling her into his embrace. His hands rest on her hips, while hers rest on his chest. She begins to open her mouth, ready to question what he's doing, when she hears the familiar notes of _A Thousand Years_ playing. A soft laugh slips from her lips.

"Who knew you could be so romantic?" Elain teases, but that's all it is - a joke. Azriel has been softhearted and romantic from the first moment he set eyes on her, it just took them both a while to realise it. 

"You said you should be dancing, so here we are." His hand lifts from her waist as they sway, skimming the dip of her back, running across her bare shoulders and neck to land on her cheek. A shiver rushes down her spine. "You're trembling." Azriel comments, eyebrow raised.

"It's the cold." It definitely isn't the cold. "This song is overused." 

"It's alright." 

"You don't even like _Twilight_."

"It's not the best movie made."

"Sparkly Robert Pattinson not your thing?"

Azriel grins and shakes his head. A lock of hair slips loose and hangs in front of his eyes, and Elain easily gives into the urge that tells her to brush it back. 

"Thank you, Az. For everything." 

Azriel places a soft kiss to Elain's temple, only to pull away with a small smirk growing on his lips. 

"And you haven't even had your best birthday present yet." 

Elain doesn't even have to ask what it's going to be. If his smug expression and the darkening of his eyes are anything to go by, then Elain really isn't going to be getting much sleep. Her only response is a small laugh and the flush of her cheeks as she hides her head in his chest. Elain feels her cheeks heat even more when she hears his deep laugh.

"Happy birthday, Elain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favourites, purely because of the scene where Elain watches the boys dance. I love the idea of them having set routines to their favourite songs.


	5. We’ve become that clingy couple you used to complain about not + I’m your husband. It’s  my job.

The airport is filled to the brim with people, but the couples and families and friends that are saying goodbye and hello are still obvious. It reminds her of that last scene in _Love Actually_ , the one in the airport with all of the people welcoming each other home - the one that always makes her cry like a baby. 

It’s sort of what she feels like doing now. 

Azriel stands next to her, one hand on the sleek black suitcase and the other playing with her hair as she leans into his side. It’s always felt right, leaning into him, like finding the perfect puzzle piece. Her head rests on his shoulder as she watches the crowds mill around. If she’s perfectly honest, she’d be content with just staying here for a little while longer: wrapped in Azriel’s embrace and enjoying the warmth that comes with his affection. But then the sign announces that he can now drop off his suitcase - and it means that Elain is going to have to say goodbye.

Not for forever, but it will feel like too long by the time he comes home. 

He’s not even going that far. There’s a business conference in Paris that he has to attend in place of Rhys, who is busy taking time out to spend a well deserved holiday in his parents’ townhouse with Feyre and the new addition to their family: Isla. She’s happy for them, she truly is, but it also means she’s going to lose Azriel for a little while. 

Elain has never been an incredibly needy person. Sure, she heavily relied on Feyre in their time of poverty - which she regrets every day - but she has never required constant attention to survive like so many others she knows. Perhaps marriage can change that about a person, especially when they’re so in love it can hurt to breath sometimes. 

“Promise you’ll be back in a week. No extensions, no delayed flights.” 

“Elain, I can’t exactly help delayed flights.” Az snorts, though he presses a soft kiss to her temple and murmurs into her hair, “but I promise I won’t be staying longer than I need to. It’s only a week, you’ll be fine.” 

“I know, but it’s the first time we’ve spent any proper time away since we got married.” Elain mutters in return, tilting her head so that she can meet his gaze. Her teeth nibble at her bottom lip - and Azriel instinctively pulls her lip away from her teeth with his thumb. He always tells her it’s a bad habit. She always ignores him. After a moment of silence, of simply looking into each other’s eyes and contemplating the week ahead, Azriel dips his head and places his lips over her own. Azriel’s kisses have always felt like an embrace. Even when they’re more passionate, primal, uncontrolled, Elain finds comfort and security. His fingers dust across her cheek before cupping her face and tilting her head to deepen the kiss. He only pulls away when he knows she’ll be breathless. But she was breathless from the start, anyway. 

“I’ve got to go now, okay?” A lock of hair is tucked behind her ear and another kiss is pressed to her forehead before he slowly pulls away. There’s a tiny amount of space, but it already feels like a gaping hole. “I love you, El.”

“I love you too.” 

And then he’s walking away, and Elain almost forgets how to breathe. 

He’s almost at the queue when Elain begins to run towards him, twisting and tilting as she avoids rolling suitcases and rushing people. 

“Wait! Az!” 

He turns just in time to catch her.

Elain’s legs wrap around his waist and her head immediately comes to bury in the crook of his neck. His warmth feels like a safety blanket. It always has done. 

“You know,” he begins, his breathy laugh fluttering the fine hairs by her ear. “We’ve become that clingy couple you used to complain about.” The smile that stretches her cheeks is automatic, and she can’t help but press a quick kiss to the soft skin of his neck before pulling away to see his expression clearly. His thumbs run soothingly across the back of her thighs, and it still amazes her how he doesn’t even seem to tremble when he holds her weight. 

“I know, but I’m happy, so who cares what others think.” There’s another moment of content silence before Elain presses her lips to his, quickly, softly. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too.”

“Even when you’re in beautiful Paris surrounded by beautiful women and stunning scenery and expensive cakes?” 

“Yes, Elain.” He laughs again. “Even then. I’m your husband. It’s my job to miss you - and to show you just exactly how much I missed you when I get home.” 

“Does that mean-?”

“Yes.” 

“Disney marathon?” 

“Any movies you like.” 

Elain grins as Azriel sets her back down on the floor softly and presses one last kiss to the corner of her lips. This time, she lets him leave without running into his arms again. After all, he’ll be back in a week, and then she’ll be able to fulfil her job as his wife and show him just how much _she_ missed him.


	6. Fake Dating + Poorly Timed Confession

They stand opposite each other, practically oblivious to the disaster unfurling around them - almost as if they are caught in a trance. She takes this moment of silence, of building tension, to reflect on these past months. They aren't even supposed to be here together. This thing between them, this thing that has become blurred and undefinable, was only meant to last a few weeks - a month at most. 

It, whatever it is, had started in June. Elain was tired of being constantly asked about her non existent love life by her coworkers, and Azriel couldn't stand the pitying glances from his own friends when he and Mor we're in the same room. So they'd acted like protagonists in some teen romance novel and decided that fake dating of all things was the way to go. It'd prove that one: Elain was not lonely in the slightest, and two: that Azriel was well and truly over Mor. 

Except he wasn't, not really. To her, Azriel was a sunflower in many ways: tall, graceful, and completely attuned to the sun - much like how he was attuned to Mor. Sometimes it was painful to watch, how Azriel would still look for Mor wherever they went, would still smile softly to himself when she entered the room - like it was his own little secret. It grew even more painful when Elain realised that she did the same thing. Except, in this case, her sun was Azriel, and she was the sunflower. She still can't pinpoint the exact moment that her feelings changed - there probably wasn't an exact moment. Falling in love with Azriel wasn't an abrupt change or stop, like hitting the breaks of a car, it was softer, more subtle, like falling asleep to the thrumming of an engine or waking up naturally to gentle sunlight. 

It was a series of moments.

The time he'd emerged from his bathroom with only a towel around his waist, she'd realised that wanting to run her fingers and lips and tongue across his skin was most definitely not platonic - but she'd also presumed it was simply her mind's way of telling her she was attracted to him. Nothing romantic, just pure lust.

When they'd attended that charity ball together, Elain had begun to suspect that it wasn't just lust. Every touch of his fingers against the bare skin that the low back of her dress revealed sent shivers down her spine and her mind to her place best left out of polite conversation. But it wasn't just his touch. His smile, his voice, his company alone sent her heart into overdrive and made her feel like she was losing her grip on whatever sensibility she had. It was the first night she let Azriel kiss her. Nothing explicit, only a close mouthed kiss - a peck, really - but it was still enough to almost make her regret it. Almost, but not quite. She found herself craving his lips more often, but never gave into temptation. 

Seeing him bounce in time to the music with Feyre's toddler on his hip must have been the catalyst. It had soothed over her, the extreme feeling of fondness she'd had for him. Azriel, who was often at war with himself, had seemed so at peace and Elain had realised there and then that she would do anything to see him like that over and over again.  

Everything had become much more difficult after that. 

Elain became scatty. She couldn't stay in his embrace for too long, and avoided eye contact at all costs when he barked even a slither or skin, all out of fear of being discovered. It was clear they Azriel didn't feel the same way, and that he probably never would. What was Elain compared to someone like Mor? Voluptuous Mor with her blood red lips and golden locks. Mor, who commanded the attention of every person with only the quirk of her lips. Elain was quiet not commanding, soft not striking. She loved her to pieces, but that didn't stop her from feeling hollow every time Mor entered the room. 

Azriel noticed the change almost straight away. At first he presumed he'd upset her, and bought her a single yellow rose to apologise for whatever he'd done. Nothing, she reassured him, but it still broke her heart. His consistent kindness made the situation worse, in some roundabout away. Of course kindness comforted her, but it led to Elain falling more deeply than she thought humanly possible. He was the most successful romance she'd ever had - and it wasn't even real.

When it reached four months, Elain decided that enough was enough. They'd made their point. Her coworkers no longer thought she was incapable of finding a date, and everyone was convinced - apart from Elain - that Azriel had successfully moved on from Mor. It had to end, before Elain fell so deeply that she ceased to breathe. But they had one more appearance to make: Feyre's art fundraiser and auction. Elain was more than happy to support Feyre, and other upcoming artists, by attending the auction - but it also meant coming with Azriel. The whole thing felt like the calm before a storm. And there was a storm, just not the type Elain was expecting. 

The catering staff had somehow managed to set of the smoke alarms, which is why Elain now stands drenched - no thanks to the sprinklers attached to the ceiling - mascara running, dress sticking to her skin, and hands clenched at her sides, ready to tell Azriel that this has to end. She reminds herself that it isn't real, that every touch and whisper and smile of Azriel's isn't hers to keep. Her eyes raise to meet his. She takes in a deep breath. _In through the nose, out through the mouth._ Her lips part, her teeth release their hold on the words they had been holding back all evening. It's like opening a dam.

"I'm in love with you." 

Elain doesn't realise what she's said until she spots colour blooming on Azriel's cheeks. Air catches in her throat and she swears her heart stops beating for a second. This is not how it was meant to go. Confession had not been a part of the plan for the evening.

"Elain-"

"I understand there's something going on here, but now really isn't the best time." Elain breaks Azriel's gaze so that she can try and focus on what Cassian is saying. But it doesn't work. She can't understand a word over the ringing of her ears and the booming of her heart. Then Cassian is rushing off towards a stack of paintings, helping Rhys move them out of the building as quickly as possible. 

A hand grasps onto her own, gently, and Elain looks down, startled and confused. Azriel's scarred fingers run across her own, and when she eventually raises her eyes to meet his, she can feel a grin parting her lips. Azriel smiles back at her, just as shocked and fond and relieved as she is. 

It feels like a confession.

It feels like a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, too, is one of my favourites. Just to let you know that not every drabble is on here. To see them all, search elriel on my tumblr and they should all pop up.


	7. Sonder

The airport is thriving. So much so, when Elain finally spots an empty table at one of the several coffee shops, she makes a quick dash, claiming the space before anybody else can. She can faintly hear Azriel laugh as he moves to join the long queue at the counter, and even from this distance it wraps around her like a warm blanket. As soon as she sits down she sighs with relief. They'd been standing for about an hour, waiting for some space to free up after walking through security checks, and it had been taking its toll on her feet. She rolls her ankle, once, twice, imagining the click that sounds when joints grind together. 

Her eyes casually glance between each person in the cafe shop; the woman with fiery red hair and soft brown eyes that comfort and calm; the man that doesn't seem to able to put his phone down, a crinkled suit and professional persona fraying at the edges; the small child, pink ice cream around their lips and sticky fingertips. 

A paper cup is placed softly in front of her, and Elain smiles thankfully up at Azriel. Cool cream softens the bite of the hot temperature of the hot chocolate as it meets her tongue, but the drink warms her chest all the same. She takes one more look around the coffee shop before placing the cup back on the table, nudging Azriel's shin carefully, and smiling fondly.

"Sonder." 

It's only one word, but Azriel's face still lights up and the sight of it provides her with more warmth than any hot drink could. 

Sonder is a game they play whenever they feel stuck in time - when the second hand moves so slowly it doesn't appear to be moving at all. They each take turns to point out a random person, someone who catches their interest, while the other tries to guess their story - who their first kiss was, who they are in love with, who they're flying to meet or what they're travelling to see. It tests the limits of their imagination, until they're creating more and more absurd stories that make no sense but it leaves their sides aching and their lungs searching for breath. 

"Okay." Azriel sits straight, quietly and subtly searching the fluctuating crowd for someone, anything that is worthy enough of a story. "Him. The bloke with the briefcase." It's the businessman from earlier. Elain takes a few moments to think, taking a quick sip of her drink and swirling the liquid around in her mouth - as if sensation of bringing her tastebuds to life will spark some sort of creativity. 

"He's fraying at the edges." She begins, mimicking the words she thought earlier. "He's on the phone to some superior at the moment - perhaps his father, he's young after all. Maybe a first time CEO. His father is threatening to take away his company, temporarily replace him with someone who has more experience. His figures aren't good enough. But this company his effectively his child. He only wants to make his father proud." 

"Elain, that's morbid." Azriel comments, but his tone is light, so she merely shrugs. 

"You asked for a story, not for a happy ending." She loves telling stories. Even the ones without happy endings. Because life isn't always happy, it's a series of twists and turns and bumps and grazes, aches and pains but laughter and smiles too. It's complicated. It's fascinating. Azriel has always said that in another life, one full of fantasy and magic, she'd probably be a seer, or the village story teller. _Story weaver,_ she'd correct. _Stories are too intricate to just be told._ "If you want something happy, tell me something happy. The barista over there, with the cream on her cheek." 

He bites the inside of his cheek as he watches the barista for a second, before turning his gaze back to Elain. The intensity of it still manages to make her blush. "University student, just trying to make ends meet - though that's probably a given." Elain nods, giving a soft laugh. "She's an artist, usually has ink and paint smudged fingertips. She has a muse, a girl in one of her classes - and this girl has finally noticed her. They're going on a date this evening, which is why she's so keen to finish work." 

"That might just be because that is an awful job to have." Elain comments, almost snorting at the way Azriel rolls his eyes. "Who next?"

Azriel's eyes search and analyse for a long moment, before coming to rest on a space over her shoulder. Elain turns, as subtly as possible, to spot a couple standing next to each other, except - they're not a couple. The boy is looking at the girl, who is staring down at her book, bottom lip tugged between her teeth and eyes full of wonder, with such adoration that it almost makes Elain's heart break. She turns back to Azriel, raising an eyebrow, _them?_ He nods, smiling, because she doesn't have to say the words for him to know that this story is going to be elaborate. 

Her recently painted fingernails tap in a steady rhythm as she ponders their tale. Something sad? No, they don't deserve that. But they don't get something completely happy either... 

Hope. The best story anyone can hear. 

"They weren't best friends growing up, but it isn't a hate to friends to love type of story either. When they met, he didn't fall in love with her straight away, and neither was she. Neither of them are the type to believe in love at first sight. It was soft, unexpected. They both knew they wanted to know each other better, but the intensity of it didn't hit them until a few months into their friendship." Elain stops for a moment to take another sip of her drink. Azriel is watching her carefully, hanging onto every single word. "She's generally quite quiet amongst most other people - at least, the quietest - but in his company, she comes alive. It's like he pushes air into her lungs, giving her the courage to speak loud enough to be heard - but he always heard her anyway, even when no one else did." 

Another pause. A look in his direction, _I told you it would be long._ A kind smile, encouragement, _I wouldn't expect anything less._ "He's quiet in a different way. Always analysing, searching, watching - but she hears him too. All it takes is one look, one twitch of a muscle, and they can read each other like the simplest maps. And when they confess - because they will, it's almost written in the stars at this point - it will feel like a super nova, earth shattering and mind breaking... beautiful. Heartbreakingly beautiful. But it only feels like that to them. To everyone else it's a breath of relief, something that was meant to be finally coming to light - can you tell I'm feeling poetic today? I think it's the book I read last night working it's way into my brain." Elain laughs, eyes crinkling and teeth splitting, but she haunts when she notices the look of awe on Azriel's face - but also the look of understanding, recognition.

Epiphany.

Elain has told their story. 

Her lips part, ready to say something - though she isn't quite sure on what she plans on saying - but he gets there first. 

"Marry me?" It doesn't quite burst from his lips - the words are too soft to burst - but they hit her with the same impact. Elain stares for a moment, hyper aware of every feeling and sensation around her; the texture of the rough paper cup under her fingers, a stray hair that brushes her temple, the breath caught in her throat. 

"Az-"

But he holds up a finger, whispers for her to wait a minute, before dashing off towards the shopping area. Her heart is racing, trying to catch up with the speed that her thoughts are moving at. Everything comes to an abrupt stop when Azriel returns, shoving his wallet into his jean pocket and a flush on his cheekbones. Her lungs scream at her, willing her to just open her mouth and 

_b r e a t h_ , 

but she can't. Elain can't describe what's happening. She needs a word, any word, to help her figure out why she can't even move. 

And when he gets down on one knee in the cramped space between their table and someone else's suitcases, she understands. It rushes over her like a calm wave, fills her lungs. It's like breaking the surface after being underwater for so long.

_Elation._

"Is that-" She stumbles, eyes brimming with tears. "Is that a _Haribo Ring?_ " At the embarrassed, yet somehow pleased grin blooming between Azriel's cheeks, Elain releases a loud, chocked up laugh and can do nothing but move down onto her own knees and take Azriel's face in her hands. His jaw is slightly scratchy where stubble is beginning to grow, and her fingers just brush his inky black locks. "Yes. _Yes._ " 

Their breaths mingle, only for a second, before their lips meet in quick but searing kiss. As soon as they pull away Az is pushing the sweet onto her finger and kissing her knuckles. 

"I'm so happy you said yes. I completely forgot what I was going to say the moment I got down on my knee." Azriel admits with a crooked grin as he rubs the back of his neck. It's adorable and endearing and Elain can't imagine being in this situation with anyone else. As they stand, Elain catches one last glimpse that the young couple they'd spotted earlier. They're watching, the girl having removed her nose from the book - deeming Elain and Azriel's story much more worth her while - and the boy is looking at them with something very akin to admiration and understanding. 

Elain smiles. Sometimes stories do have happy endings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favourite one so far. I love experimenting with the structure more, and overall it so far seems to have been successful. Let me know what you think, as always !! :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ELRIEL BUT IN SPACE AND ANGSTY. BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAM MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BREAK MY HEART BRE

Heat pricks along her throat, followed by soothing balms and calming air. Her breath hitches, fingers drag down flesh. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

She wakes.

Her chest still rises and falls rapidly. Fingers stretch to feel the other side of the bed - his side of the bed. It’s cold, empty.

Sunlight shines through the window (sealed shut, never to open) but it provides no warmth. The room is too barren with the cold tones of the aerospace organisation. Stark white contrasts to the dusty oranges of Mars.

It doesn’t interest her anymore.

Bare feet pads against the cold floor. Everything lacks heat. A girl stares back at her in the bathroom mirror. There are no rosebuds blooming on her neck, nor red veins scratched into the skin on her back.

But half of her soul has been cleaved from her chest. Ruthlessly, bluntly. It is sewn into the lifeless corpse, hidden away in the morgue, marred and scarred by scraps of space junk.

There’s a photo on the counter - the only flash of colour save for the red blotches on her cheeks. His dark hair is soft, eyes inviting and open. She remembers the triangle of metal lodged into his cheek. His suit had been ripped at the back, open like wings.

Her heart crumbles, her chest aches. She scratches at her arm.

Nothing will ever be the same.

**Author's Note:**

> The first Elriel Drabble I ever wrote! This seems like ages ago, even though it was only in August.


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